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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25000852">I'm yours, always</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyintherain/pseuds/pennyintherain'>pennyintherain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>me rewriting civil war for stevenat [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, I Tried, I wrote this ages ago, Idiots in Love, Why Can't I Tag, civil war was a tragedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:21:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,982</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25000852</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyintherain/pseuds/pennyintherain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Natasha sides with Tony for the Accords, and Steve asks her out anyway.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers &amp; Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>me rewriting civil war for stevenat [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I'm yours, always</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this ages ago, and my writing style has matured (I think) but I cba to rewrite so go easy, okay. Enjoy x</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The tension in the room makes it hard to breath. voices overlap, thick with tension as the arguments bounce around the room. Bounce around her brain. Bounce like balls, colliding, making the biggest racket. The pounding in her head is familiar in an unfamiliar way. Indecision makes her brain ache. </p><p>For the first time in her life, Natasha doesn't know what to do. She's alone in a forest, a forked path in front of her. Kindly strangers keep tapping her shoulder, trying to tell her which way they each lead, the advised route. But she doesn't hear them. The words don't get through, they mash together in a cacophony that feels as foreign as another language (one she can't speak, of course). </p><p>For the first time, there is no obvious, logical decision to be made. Sometimes it's hard, but there is always a cogent path to choose, even if it hurts. Cold-hearted, but necessary. But now, there's nothing. She feels no inkling, no gut feeling, no intuition. Just at an utter loss.<br/>
Steve and Tony throw cases back and forth. Natasha can feel her mind swaying like a tree in a storm. Everything they say makes sense. </p><p>Natasha wants autonomy, yet she doesn't want unrestrained freedom. She agrees that there must be repercussions for the destruction they've caused, call it what you want, unnecessary or unavoidable. But then again, efficiency would be greatly decreased by council supervision. She knows that the team <em>needs</em> the flexibility they hold, and these Accords are pushing them into an increasingly rigid mould that will inevitably break at some point, forcing them all into an early retirement.</p><p>There's the <em>team</em> though. Natasha's eyes scan the tight faces of those around the table and knows she can't lose this. She can't lose them. She <em>needs</em> them, every single one, more than they need her doubtless, more than she needs anything. She needs her friends, her family, to stay together, whatever the cost. And she's not stupid. There is an obvious, or soon to be, split between them all. The ground is moving, breaking apart; she doesn't know which side to step on. </p><p>Her eyes brush over Wanda, the girl who sometimes reminds Natasha so desperately of herself, twisting a lock of mahogany hair carelessly around one finger. Sam, who she knows will side with Steve whatever, soft chocolate eyes conflicted. Tony is surprisingly non-verbal while others bicker, eyebrows knitted in a grimace. Steve. She longs to squeeze his hand, smile some sort of comforting message over the colliding trains of thought. He meets her eyes and she can't bring herself to. His eyes are martyred, and opaque as a stone wall. There's something moving beneath them, an entreatment for help, support. He wants her. Her help. She should speak up, respond to his plea, but her throat feels dry, and for once she's scared of saying the wrong thing. Because though she knows where her heart leads, her head is telling her that should she follow it they will lose, and she's suspicious that 'retirement' is not as innocent as it sounds. </p><p>There is a choice between head and heart. One that may hurt more than she's prepared to feel. And Natasha suspects she's going to choose the one she's always chosen.</p><p>Finally she swallows and speaks her mind, words acid in her throat.<br/>
"Maybe Tony's right."<br/>
Faces turn her way. Tony's head snaps up, surprise imprinted onto the raised eyebrows and widened eyes. She can see he'd almost immediately written her onto Steve's side. But she can't.<br/>
She looks back at Steve. Something's come over his face. A film. His mouth is set in a line, eyes dark and full of betrayal as she carries on.<br/>
"If we have one hand on the wheel we can still steer..." He holds her gaze, the essence of her words dawning on him.<br/>
"Aren't you the same woman who told the government to kiss her arse a few years ago?" Sam says sceptically.<br/>
"I'm just...I'm reading the terrain." She can hear the note of desperation creeping into her voice as his face morphs into a blank sheet of paper. He's trying to hide from her, hide his thoughts, emotions, all of which were ready to pick through previously. She's the enemy now, she doesn't deserve to know. But she can still see the hurt underneath. It radiates through the veil over his face. Her deceit sets his mouth in a hard line. Jaw clenched, he looks to the floor.<br/>
"We've made some very public mistakes." Her voice sounds increasingly shaky, desperation to somehow change his mind, make him see, trembling her lip. "We need to win their trust back." Natasha can feel herself losing what seems like everything as he gives a slight shake of his head, disappointment palpable.</p><p>Tony shakes himself out of his astonishment, leaning forward.<br/>
"I'm sorry, did I just mishear you or did you agree with me?"<br/>
"Oh, I wanna take it back." For more reasons than one. </p><p>~*~</p><p>Steve sits back in his chair, frustration filling him. They just can't see. They can't see why he can't do this. It's more than honour and patriotism, this is what's <em>right</em>. </p><p>He glances down at the booklet in his lap, official-looking lettering emblazoned across the cover. The first page contains signature spaces, yet he is sure at least a few will be empty. </p><p>This decision was obvious for him. There was no thinking to be done. He has struggled since the ice melted with the definition, of what is right, in this crazy world? How does it differ from wrong? Especially since the whole SHIELD/Hydra situation. The lines seems to be blurring further and further. Yet, perhaps for the first time since, the path was already chosen, obvious. This <em>is</em> the right thing to do. And isn't that what matters?</p><p>However this decision doesn't seem to be as easy for others. The obvious split between himself and Tony cracks the team unevenly. Wanda purses her lips thoughtfully while Sam paces behind, next to a tutting Rhodey. Natasha looks stricken. Her eyes flit around the room with a nervous hyper-awareness. She bites her lip and keeps swallowing. He wants to reach over and give her hand a reassuring squeeze, but can't. Distance separates them. Empty air, tension woven through breaths and quivering molecules. He meets her eyes and finds himself pleading with her, knowing she'll understand. </p><p><em>Choose me</em>. He entreats.<br/>
<em>Please. It's the right thing.</em><br/>
A pause.<br/>
<em>I want you by my side. I need you.</em></p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Her eyes clear slightly, though she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He sits through her short statement. 'Not what he hoped to hear' is an understatement. He feels like he's been punched in the stomach, a lorry dropped on him. He was almost sure that she was a near definite. He was sure he could always rely on her. But then of course, she had to go and ignore their little eye-conversation and put a knife in his back. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Yet she hasn't really. There is no official alliance between them. No spoken agreement. He doesn't feel jilted by Wanda's ambiguity or Rhodey's obstinate stance alongside Tony. To call this betrayal seems childish. This is like any other teammate. Why is Natasha different?</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Maybe it's because he keeps counting on her, and she just keeps hurting him. Over and over again.<br/>
He can see it's not really her fault. They are factors out of her control. He shouldn't even be hurt by her attraction to Bruce, though for some reason that did strike somewhere deep, and things weren't the same after that, in their pursuit of Ultron or otherwise. The heart wants what the heart wants, even if this did end in tears. Or lack of thereof, but a broken heart at any rate. And again now, with these Accords. He wants her at his side, so much. That alone might turn some others. He can't force her, or anyone, to go against what they think is right. He just wishes...he wishes they'd, she'd, made different choices.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Maybe things would be different. Different how, he's not quite sure. Just...different. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>~*~</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Suddenly a phone buzzes and Steve flicks his eyes down to the glowing screen, before leaving his chair hurriedly, storming out of the room, an "I have to go." tossed over a shoulder. The silence feels empty again. People avert the eyes, instead choosing to pick fingernails or scuff their shoe sole on the floor. Tony can't even be bothered to reprimand them. Eventually everyone dissipates, half-hearted excuses muttered as they trudge their separate ways dejectedly. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>~*~</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>She finds him later, slumped in that armchair again, a weary expression drooping the creases of his face. She stands a little away from him awkwardly, not sure how to speak, what to say, if anything. For some reason she doesn't even know how to stand still. Where should her hands go? Should she cross her arms? What does she look like? Defensive? Impassive? Fearful? Natasha hates feeling like this, like she's done something so irreparably wrong when she hasn't, not really. But having to face him feels embarrassing, and her skin crawls uncomfortably. She doesn't feel right in her own body. It doesn't fit, it's too heavy. Her head hangs ashamedly, eyes looking at him through her lashes. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>He looks up suddenly, and as he sees her an expression comes over his face. It's closed off. He seems a little surprised to see her there.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>"Hey." She murmurs, throat dry, not sure if he'll even hear.<br/>
"Hi." He replies, lips moving minimally.<br/>
"Can I sit?" She gestures weakly to the sofa next to him.<br/>
"Sure." His eyes follow her as she walks over, weaving in between two armchairs and sits. Natasha wonders if the heat rising to her cheeks is visible.<br/>
"I thought I should explain..." She begins.<br/>
"There's really nothing to say." He doesn't look at her anymore, but away.<br/>
"Steve I want to tell you why-" She tries again<br/>
"You don't need to. You don't owe me anything. You did what you thought was right." A complete juxtaposition to his disposition, and the eyes that tell a different story. Still dark, closed off.</em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Her breath is uneven, and again she hates the feeling of shame. "I guess so. But Steve-" She reaches across the space between the two chairs and takes his hand, which is when he finally lifts his eyes to meet hers, and Natasha finally sees a ripple of emotion. Or a wave. A tide. "You know. My head tells me to sign. But my heart-" There's a pause as she breaks off, swallowing. "I'm yours, okay? Always."<br/>
He nods. "I know. Just don't leave. Sign, do whatever you want, but don't leave." His thumb runs over her fingers. He notes how cold her hands are. "Don't leave me."<br/>
She tries for a coy grin. Only the cracks show the pretence. "Of course. You're not getting rid of me that easy, Rogers."<br/>
Something like a twinge of realisation comes over him. "You and me, we need to see the sun more."<br/>
"We were literally in Lagos a few days ago." She raises an eyebrow.<br/>
"No, I mean- We should go out when this is all over. Together."<br/>
"That sounds nice." Is all she says in reply, the small, bitter-sweet smile playing on her lips. </em>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <em>Neither comment on how, when this is all over, it's unlikely Steve will ever be able to show his face in public again, if he's not arrested, imprisoned. Neither comment on the many hidden meanings (though somehow in plain of eye now) behind the proposal he just made, and she accepted. Neither comment on the unspoken 'thing' between them. And it will go unsaid. They'll never go out for that talk. In fact there's a possibility they might not see each other without bars between again.</em>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always, kudos and comments are much appreciated x</p></blockquote></div></div>
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